THE TRUE KING OF DAHAAR(60)

                There were portraits of generations of Al Sharifs on the walls. Vases were overflowing with exotic flowers. Velvet-cushioned heavy chairs sat around the table, the back of each intricately carved with the Dahaaran insignia of a sword.

                And on the table, an unending array of mouthwatering dishes beckoned.

                Azeez stood in the darkened corner of the room, and yet she felt his gaze on her, as though he had touched her.

                “Hello, Nikhat.”

                Running a hand over her midriff, Nikhat nodded. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, pinned to the spot by the energy instantly crackling in the air around them.

                They hadn’t seen each other since they had returned from the desert four days ago. She had no idea who was avoiding whom, or maybe they both were.

                She had thought she would take the plunge and taste paradise for one night. What she hadn’t realized was how hard it would be to have tasted it once and then having to live with the fact that it would never be hers again. A fierce need to leave a mark on him, that’s what she had wanted. Instead, she felt as if she was the one who had walked away scarred, again.

                She startled and turned as she heard Princess Zohra behind her. Greeting her with a nod, she walked back toward the entrance, realizing the significance of the occasion. Of course, the princess would want to celebrate.

                Holding the wave of emotion threatening to pull her under, Nikhat was about to leave when the princess stopped her. “I had the servants invite you on purpose, Nikhat. My family is not with me and you have—” she flicked a knowing look toward Azeez, and Nikhat could only be thankful he didn’t notice “—brought peace of mind to me in more than one way.”

                Her stomach twisting, Nikhat wet her lips. “I do not belong at this dinner.”

                Before Nikhat could leave, Ayaan entered the hall.

                Unable to excuse herself, Nikhat took the seat next to Azeez. His gaze took in her shaking hands, and she clasped them rigidly in her lap, wishing herself anywhere but here.

                “You’re shaking. Are you in pain again?”

                She shook her head. Ayaan dismissed everyone else, even the waiting servants. His hands on her chair, he leaned down and took Princess Zohra’s mouth in a kiss that sent heat rushing to Nikhat’s cheeks.

                Next to her, Azeez leaned back into his seat, stretching his right leg. “Do you wish us to leave, Ayaan?” There was more than a hint of teasing in his voice and Nikhat instinctively turned.

                He was grinning, and the joy in his face momentarily wiped everything else from her mind.

                Leaning over the chair, his arm still around Princess Zohra’s, Ayaan smiled at Azeez. “We are celebrating and…we would like you to be part of it. Zohra had an ultrasound scan today.” He nodded at Nikhat. “We’re having twin boys.”

                Nikhat wanted to look away and yet she devoured every expression, every nuance in Azeez’s face.

                He became very still in contrast to the restless energy that poured off him; even the air around him seemed to hang in suspension. Slowly, he blinked, as though coming out of a deep fog.

                His gaze caught hers for an infinitesimal second and the flash of something in it left Nikhat shaken to the core. She felt unbearably frozen inside. And she fought the feeling.

                She had enough to feel guilty about, enough things that she couldn’t change about herself. She didn’t want the burden of his disappointment, the burden of his lost dreams.